


game of love

by olive2read



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Aftercare, Baseball, Biting, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Rage Fuck, Spanking, thigh fucking, thumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 23:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2read
Summary: Patrick is a bit of a sore loser and gets angry at David, who is just trying to support him. David gets mad in response. Rage fucking ensues.





	game of love

**Author's Note:**

> Title (and lyrical inspiration below) from Santana & Michele Branch’s “Game of Love”
> 
> “It just takes a little bit of this, a little bit of that  
It started with a kiss  
Now we're **up to bat**  
**A little bit of laughs, a little bit of pain**  
I'm telling you my babe  
It's all in the game of love  
It's all in this game of love
> 
> **You roll me**  
**Control me**  
**Console me**  
**Please hold me**”
> 
> Thanks especially to [whetherwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman) for ensuring there was some level of coherence to this 😘 and to the rest of the fun folks at the Rosebudd for the collaborative brainstorming that led to this (not to mention for all the awesome validation)!

* * *

“SAFE!” yells the umpire.

Patrick shakes his head, his eyes going wide. That’s … that’s got to be a joke, right? He’s never known an umpire to have a sense of humour, most wouldn’t know a joke if it hit them in the face mask, but … there’s no other explanation for what’s just happened. He sprints in toward home plate.

“Ump!” he calls as he runs. “What was that call, ump?”

The umpire turns to stare impassively at him. Patrick can feel his face flushing and his heart racing – and not because of the four seconds of running in from the outfield. 

“She was out, ump! She was clearly out! The ball was caught! The plate was tagged! You were standing right behind it! How could you miss that?”

He feels a hand on his shoulder, probably someone trying to rein him in, and gruffly shakes it off. He knows he shouldn’t get into the umpire’s face about this. If this were any other day, any other _game_, even, he would accept this with his normal magnanimous attitude. He tries to ignore the cheering and bouncing up and down happening in front of the other team’s dugout and feels his hands start to twitch. Not today. Not fucking _today_! 

The umpire blinks at him slowly. “I made my call.”

Patrick opens his mouth and suddenly David is there, pulling him into his arms and hugging him tightly. “It’s alright, Patrick,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on Patrick’s back. “You’ll get them next time.” He gives Patrick another squeeze and then pulls back. “So, do you think the food is ready yet or …?”

Patrick leans away from him. “I don’t know about the food, David, I’m kind of in the middle of a game, here. And we can’t ‘get them next time,’ we don’t play them again this season unless we both make it to the championship, which we won’t if we lose this game,” he turns to glare at the umpire again, “which we _haven’t_.”

David raises one of those incredible eyebrows and his face does that wobbly little smirky smile. Patrick knows that David is trying to help by distracting him. This is one of the things they’ve been working on to help him when his competitiveness gets out of hand. He takes a deep breath and tries to remember that this means that David is here for him, helping him be a better man, a better partner, a better _player_. He takes another deep breath.

“You okay?” David asks. Patrick nods.

He looks over to continue his debate with the umpire and clenches his jaw when he sees that there’s no one there. The umpire has left, his team is busy shaking hands with the other side and saying “good game,” and Patrick knows he should be lining up with everyone else, shaking hands, and being a good sport. If it had been a fair call, that’s exactly what he _would_ be doing. Hell, if it had been a fair call, they’d be playing another inning and _Patrick’s_ team would be winning.

Ronnie jogs over to where they’re standing, having completed the ‘good game’ ritual. Patrick’s mood darkens further at the smug smirk on her face. “Haha!” she cackles. “How about that last run, huh? What was your catcher even doing? I guess you’re not the only one on your team that’s all thumbs.” She puts her right hand out toward Patrick as her left falls on his shoulder and she gives him a friendly shake. “Good game, though.”

If Patrick could calm down, he’d know she meant it good naturedly. He’d reach out and clasp her hand in camaraderie. This is what he and Ronnie do, after all. They banter and they poke at each other. It took him awhile to figure out that this was how Ronnie expressed friendship and, generally, he’s just so happy to know that she likes him that he doesn’t mind. He’s not in the mood for it right now, though. Right now, it’s just chafing against all the raw places left by that abrasive, and _completely_ unreasonable, game-deciding “safe!”

And then it happens. The proverbial straw lands. David laughs. He fucking _laughs_ at the ‘joke’ Ronnie made. The one she made at Patrick’s expense. “Thumbs,” he says, laughter bubbling up as he shakes his head, “oh my god, _thumbs_!”

Patrick stands there, simmering, as Ronnie and David smile at each other, until he can’t take it. “You know what, Ronnie? If you’re fine with _cheating_ to win, then whatever.”

Ronnie’s grin falters and she blinks at him. “Cheating? We won fair and square. If you’re gonna be a sore loser, that’s not on me.” She shakes her head at him, radiating disappointment and, he thinks, a little bit of hurt. A small voice in the back of his head is screaming at him to stop this, to let it go. He tries taking another deep breath as Ronnie turns and walks back to her team.

Patrick crosses his arms over his chest. He knows he is in the wrong, can feel himself pouting, and that just makes him annoyed all over again. What is wrong with him that he’s so hung up on this?

David taps on his shoulder and Patrick takes another deep breath and turns to face him. David kisses him lightly and grasps his hand firmly, leading him over to the food. As they walk Patrick runs through the calming exercises he’s practised so that by the time they get to where everyone else is, he’s feeling a little better. His mood improves further when David takes the unprecedented step of saying their goodbyes _without eating_ and packing Patrick and his stuff into the car, heading home.

Patrick looks at him in a daze and David pats his thigh reassuringly. “You’re gonna have to apologise to Ronnie, though, you know that, right?” Patrick nods glumly and David gives his thigh a comforting squeeze.

By the time they get to the apartment, Patrick is almost back to his usual self. The adrenaline from the game has more or less worn off and he’s feeling a little overcome by how much he loves this incredible man who is taking such good care of him. He still can’t believe that David left instead of eating and his heart swells once more at the memory. His heart isn’t the only thing swelling, either. Thinking of how David swooped in to save him from himself has him thinking of all of the ways he can show his appreciation. He wonders, idly admiring David’s ass as he bends over to put Patrick’s bat bag away in the closet, if he should start with a blow job. _No_, he thinks to himself, _I want him to fuck me_. It feels selfish, like he needs David to take even more care of him, but he also knows that David loves everything they do together and will give him this if it’s what he wants. His heart rate starts to increase again but this time it isn’t anger he’s feeling.

At least, not until David says, “I can’t believe she called you a thumb, _again_,” and Patrick turns to him with a smile, expecting to see David’s supportive face firmly in place as it had been earlier but, instead, David is fighting back a smile. Patrick’s brow furrows and David’s shoulders start to shake. He pulls Patrick in and kisses him lightly, lips undulating with repressed laughter, and then pulls back as some of it bursts forth and Patrick watches in shock as David bends nearly double.

“Oh my god!” David gasps between laughs. “Patrick! Your face!” 

Patrick’s jaw clenches. “Really, David? I didn’t think it was that funny.”

David wipes a few tears from his eyes and pats him on the shoulder. “Oh, I know, but you will. At least, you will once you’re over this —,” he waves vaguely in the direction of Patrick’s chest, “snit.”

Patrick’s ears pull back and he jerks away from David. “Snit?” David’s eyes widen as his head tilts in surprise. “I’m not having a _snit_, David, the umpire made a bad call and it cost us the game. I mean, didn’t you see –” Patrick stops as David shakes his head. “No, of _course_ not.” Patrick is a little bit surprised at his own vehemence. For some reason, though, he can’t seem to stop his mouth from spitting out all of his rage and hurt. “Were you even _watching_ the game, David? Or just counting down the minutes until the barbecue?” 

David opens his mouth to defend himself and, instead of cutting off David’s retort with the devastating line he had planned, Patrick finds himself shoving David up against the wall and shoving his tongue down David’s throat. It’s as though some of the wires in Patrick’s brain got crossed, or maybe his cock got confused, since only moments ago it had been looking forward to some excellent sexytimes. 

Then his hands are in David’s hair, tugging his face to the side so that Patrick can suck at his neck before he even registers what’s happening. It’s a little bit like an out of body experience; there’s a part of Patrick observing what he’s doing as though from afar as his lips glide down David’s jaw. David groans as Patrick’s teeth graze his throat and sink into the place where his neck meets his shoulder. He shoves a leg between Patrick’s and grinds his quickly hardening cock up against Patrick, whose own cock is feeling very smug at this turn of events.

David yanks his face away and Patrick’s cock surges as David pants for breath. “Hold the fuck on, Patrick,” David gasps. “We agreed that I would support you by _being there_ and I was there. I sat through the entire game in _support_.” He pushes off from the wall, bodily knocking Patrick back. He steps to the side, grabs Patrick’s arm, and reverses their previous positions so it’s Patrick up against the wall. David leans in and slaps his hands down, one on either side of Patrick’s head. “You,” David says, glaring at Patrick, “should be _thanking_ me.”

He slams his mouth down over Patrick’s and this time it’s David’s teeth pulling on Patrick’s bottom lip before David’s tongue takes control of Patrick’s mouth. David’s hips press into his. 

Patrick gets his hands under David’s sweater and fumbles at his waistband, finally managing to get the zipper down and his hands slide around to cup David’s ass. They both groan and David moves his own hands to Patrick’s uniform pants. Patrick loses himself in the kiss, in the grind, in _David_ for a moment before what David said registers. He puts his hands firmly on David’s hips and pushes. David breaks the kiss and stumbles backward a few steps.

“Thanking you?” Patrick asks incredulously. “_Thanking_ you?” He stalks toward David, who has recovered his equilibrium and somehow manages to sniff with an air of dignified injury, despite his skinny jeans being down around his knees. Patrick gets right up into David’s face and David refuses to budge. “You call what you were doing support?”

David’s nostrils flare and his eye brows go up. “Yes, _Patrick_, I do.” He raises a hand in front of Patrick’s face and starts ticking off points. “First, I showed up. Second, I got you calmed down when you were yelling at the goalie –”

“There’s no goalie, David, which you would know if you’d been listening to anything I was saying! That was the umpire!”

David rolls his eyes and Patrick can feel his pulse kick up another few notches. “Whatever, Patrick. Third, I left before we even got to have any food so that you could come back here and stew in this little temper tantrum.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been cracking jokes with Ronnie, we could’ve eaten before we left!” Patrick fires back. “Maybe if, for once, you were focused on me instead of the damn barbecue –” David’s face goes white and Patrick stops, aware that he may have gone a bit too far.

“Fuck _you_, Patrick,” David hisses. “I _was_ focused on you.” He takes the three fingers he’s still holding up and pokes them, hard, into Patrick’s shoulder. “Everything I did was focused on _you_!” He pokes Patrick again. “Fuck, Patrick, _everyone_ was focused on you and your fragile manhood.” 

“_Fragile_ manhood?” Patrick shoves his hand into David’s chest. He doesn’t push as hard as David has been poking him, but it’s enough to make David stumble back again and, this time, he trips and sprawls across the bed. Patrick is instantly on top of him, stopping that rude fucking mouth with his own and pushing David’s sweater up as he presses his cock into David’s groin. He pulls away from David’s mouth. “Does that feel fucking _fragile_ to you, David?” He bites down hard into David’s chest. David bucks up, arching his back and moaning, and then rolls them over, his hands scrabbling at Patrick’s pants again and his mouth closing over Patrick’s ear, his teeth sinking into the lobe.

David pulls off to say, “It does, yeah,” as he succeeds in getting Patrick’s pants open. He aggressively shoves both pants and underwear down, then pushes his own boxer briefs down and kisses Patrick roughly as their cocks meet, skin to skin. Patrick groans and thrusts his hips up into David’s, then tears his mouth away.

David pulls back for a moment, straddling Patrick’s hips and they just look at each other.

Patrick isn’t entirely sure what to do as David gazes down at him with an unreadable look, his chest heaving. He’s so angry and so horny. Up to this point, sex between them has been fun and sweet, it’s usually so hot and so tender that it takes his breath away. It’s been awkward at times too, of course, but, even in those moments, every touch is an expression of trust and love. This is … different. He’s not even sure whether or not he _likes_ David in this moment. His cock, on the other hand, has no such qualms. It _definitely_ still wants David, it needs his touch _urgently_, it’s pretty convinced that if David doesn’t start touching it again, right the fuck now, it’s going to _die_.

David tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing, then nods once and slowly peels off his sweater. Patrick gulps at the bruise purpling to the left of David’s sternum, a few inches above his nipple, which is a match for the one blooming on his neck. David smiles down at him with a dark, hot look and Patrick gulps again, though this time it isn’t due to worrying about the damage he may have done. Patrick’s cock spasms desperately toward David and David’s smile gets darker. And hotter. “Poor, fragile, little manhood.”

At that, Patrick surges up and rolls them over again. He tries to force David’s thighs open but the skinny jeans still around his knees prevent him from making much of a gap. Still, it’s enough. He sinks his cock in between David’s thighs and moans into David’s neck as he moves his hands to David’s hips, gripping tightly, probably tight enough to leave another set of marks. That thought only makes his fingers dig in deeper. David’s thighs close tightly around his cock as David arches his neck back, his head sliding against one of the pillows. He reaches up and throws the pillow off the bed. This, when David is always so meticulous in how he handles the fancy pillows he insisted Patrick buy, combined with the warm feel of David’s skin surrounding his cock makes Patrick go a little wild. He fucks down hard into the space between David’s thighs, his foreskin gliding up and down his shaft, making his thrusts feel longer than they are, as pre-come drips out of him and slicks his way. David clenches his muscles around Patrick and thrashes on the bed, scattering a few more pillows.

“Don’t,” Patrick grits out, his cock sliding against the underside of David’s balls and ramming into his perineum, “you,” he thrusts, and David writhes beneath him, “fucking _dare_,” he pumps into David’s thighs again, “say shit like that,” Patrick is gasping and David is thrashing, “to me. You should apologise.”

“_Patrick!_” David’s shout is breathless and Patrick feels his balls draw up tight. He’s close. Just a few more thrusts and … 

He jolts as David’s flailing hand knocks into the underside of his chin. David’s eyes grow wide and, for a split second, it seems as though he’s going to apologise, though this wasn’t exactly what Patrick had in mind when he said that, but then David’s eyes narrow and he gets an arm between them. He levers himself upward, knocking Patrick back with his forearm. Patrick’s arms spin as he falls on to his side. David grabs Patrick’s shoulder and roughly drives his face down into the mattress. Patrick groans as he feels David’s hands ruthlessly spreading his cheeks. He has a momentary panic, afraid that David is simply going to pound into him without lube or preparation, and Patrick tends to need a _lot_ of lube, but, instead, David teases the crack of Patrick’s ass, nestling his cock there. He circles Patrick’s hole, leaking pre-come, and Patrick’s hips stutter into the mattress as he whimpers.

“I’m not,” David hisses, his cock nudging against Patrick’s entrance, then sliding up and away along the crack, “the one,” Patrick shoves his hips back toward David, knowing he shouldn’t try to take David’s cock without prep and yet unable to help himself, “unf, _god, Patrick_.” David pauses, then roughly plunges a fist between Patrick’s thighs, forcing them apart. Patrick whimpers again, cock rutting into the mattress, hips jerking up toward David. He can’t believe how fucking hot it is that David is manhandling him. David replaces his fist almost immediately with his cock and they both groan. “I’m not the one who needs to _apologise_!”

It takes Patrick a second to understand the context of what David has just said. Part of him knows that David is right but part of him, a much louder part at the moment, is afraid that if he apologises, David will stop fucking him senseless and, like, _cuddle_ with him or something, and that’s not what he wants right now. He feels one of David’s hands slide up his back, scraping nails through the short hair on the back of his neck and then gripping the hair at his crown. He’s never been so glad that he decided to grow his hair out a bit as he is when David’s fingers tighten.

“Are you sorry yet, Patrick?” David asks.

Patrick tries to shake his head but David holds him in place as David’s other hand comes down on Patrick’s ass with a stinging smack. They both freeze. Patrick fights to choke back on his orgasm and his whole body shudders with the effort.

“P-patrick?” David asks, tone very carefully neutral.

“David,” Patrick gasps, “d-do that again.”

“What? Patrick, are you sure?” He can hear a thread of concern in David’s voice and, goddammit, no. Patrick doesn’t want kind, caring, wonderful David. Well, he does, just not _currently_.

Patrick’s hips rise up of their own accord, seeking David’s hand. “Please,” he begs, “please, David.” There’s a long pause, it feels like an eternity to Patrick, before the next slap comes. When it hits, Patrick’s back arches up and he cries out, “_YES_!”

David spanks him again, and again, and again, until Patrick loses count. His body is awash in sensation, every spank reverberating through him, down to his very bones, and shooting tingles all the way up to his face and down to his toes. He is simultaneously melting into a puddle of bliss and vibrating with all of the intensity of a live wire and his brain is short circuiting. David’s rhythm falters, then stops, and Patrick shivers as David’s fingers trace light circles over the overly sensitised flesh of his ass. The swirling spirals get harder as David’s fingers dig in a bit, and Patrick babbles and begs and bucks under him when he feels the sharpness of David’s nails twisting in and meeting to pinch. At that sharp, bright spot of pain, Patrick quietly whimpers, “_David_,” unable to manage much volume as all of his remaining energy pours forth from his cock and he comes harder than he ever has in his life.

David’s hand smooths gently across Patrick’s ass, soothing the sting, and David begins to thrust into Patrick’s thighs again, slowly at first, then gaining speed. Patrick pants under him, his softening cock slipping and sliding through the lake of come he’s just created. It’s on the verge of too much when David’s body locks and Patrick feels the rush of heat as David transforms the lake into an ocean.

David collapses on top of him, his grip on Patrick’s hair slackens, and, for a moment, they just lay there, catching their breath. David reaches down and intertwines his fingers with Patrick’s, kissing the back of Patrick’s neck softly. Patrick weakly squeezes David’s fingers between his own. After their breathing has returned, more or less, to normal, David slowly eases himself up and off Patrick. He tugs on their clasped hands and helps Patrick up, then helps him undress. David gets an arm around Patrick and guides him, as he staggers woozily, into the shower.

Patrick can barely stand but David doesn’t seem to mind doing all of the work of cleaning them up. He delicately dries Patrick off, following the towel’s movement with soft kisses along Patrick’s back, his arms, his legs, even the tips of his toes as Patrick shakes with reaction and leans heavily against the counter. David walks him carefully to the couch and sits him down, wrapping him in his favourite chunky afghan – the one knit by the local alpaca farm that’s, according to David, “a little _too_ artisanal” for the Rose Apothecary aesthetic. He blinks at the floor as David bustles off toward the kitchen. In another blink, David is back and helping him to drink some water. He’s also got a tray of the sourdough they recently discovered, the bison butter that is one of the only products David has been willing to import from another province, and some diced salami and pickles. David wraps himself around Patrick and feeds him small bites, in between kisses and sips of water, and Patrick slowly starts to come back to himself. He leans his head against David’s shoulder, nuzzling at his neck. David kisses the side of his face.

“’M sorry,” he mumbles against David’s skin. “Was a jerk.”

David kisses his cheek again. “Me too. Let’s talk about that tomorrow, sweetheart.” He gently nudges Patrick against the couch and Patrick follows the movement, leaning back into the cushions. David stands and heads over to the bed.

“’re y’doin’?” Patrick asks. He can’t seem to get his voice to stop slurring.

“Changing the sheets, love. I’ll be done in a minute.”

Sure enough, before Patrick has really registered more than the fact of David’s absence, he’s back, supporting Patrick as he wobbles to his feet and then tucking him into bed. 

“David,” Patrick whines when David doesn’t immediately join him.

“Shhh,” David croons, “I’m just turning off the lights.” A few seconds later he’s crawling into bed beside Patrick and curling himself around Patrick’s exhausted body. “I love you, Patrick,” he says, kissing Patrick’s forehead.

Patrick touches his nose to David’s and fumbles his lips into a kiss. “Love you, too,” he says, or tries to say, as sleep overcomes him.


End file.
